


I Met a Man Who Wasn't There

by blackrabbit42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: HEX - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 15:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrabbit42/pseuds/blackrabbit42
Summary: Dean's been hexed to be invisible.  He handles it with about the amount of maturity that you'd expect.





	I Met a Man Who Wasn't There

Sam knows it’s going to be a bad day when Dean says, “Hey Sam, I bet you can’t find me!” before Sam even has his eyes open. They’re in a twelve-by-twelve motel room with attached bath. If Dean thinks Sam can’t find him, then some shit is messed up, and it’s waaaaaay too early for there to be messed up shit to deal with.

He gives the air an experimental sniff. No coffee either. Damn. Maybe if he puts the pillow over his head, Dean will get the hint…

“Come on, Sam, this is really cool. Get up. See if you can find me.” Dean’s voice sounds like he’s standing directly next to the bed, so Sam cracks one eye open. No Dean. Huh. Sits up, blankets pooling around his lap and scans the room. No Dean. Weird. His voice hadn’t sounded muffled like it was from under the bed, but Sam swings his head over and takes a peek down there anyway. No Dean. 

“You’re hiding in the bathroom? What are you Dean, five?” Sam gets half way to the bathroom when he hears a muffled squeak of laughter behind him. But when he spins around, no Dean. “What the…? Dean, where are you?”

“Told ya you wouldn’t be able to find me,” Dean says, and Sam is so surprised, he stumbles back a step. Dean’s voice is right in front of him. As in, coming from a place inches from Sam’s face.

“Wha….?” Maybe he’s dreaming. 

“Watch this.” Dean’s voice again, still close, but moving away. And then there’s this… _noise_. This crazy weird noise, that sounds like… like someone jumping on the bed. Sam listens carefully. Like someone _naked_ jumping on the bed. Yes, exactly like that, and it’s coming from the direction of the bed, but clearly, there’s no one doing that. 

Christ. It’s too early for this.

“Okay, Dean, I give up. Where are you, what the hell’s going on?” Sam ducks his head into the bathroom, reaches out and jerks the shower curtain open, just in case.

Behind him, Dean’s voice says, “I’m invisible.”

Sam whirls around. The voice had been right up in his ear. “Quit screwing with me man, where are you?”

“I told you, I’m invisible. I’m standing right in front of you.”

It sure as hell _sounds_ like Dean is standing right in front of him, but just… no. It’s too weird. “Prove it,” he says.

The next thing he knows, his pajama bottoms are down around his ankles.  
“Dude, nice wood.”

Things only go downhill from there.

++++++++

For as much as Dean hates witches, he sure seems to like getting hexed. Oh sure, there are some things that just aren’t fun, no matter how you look at it, like the time Dean couldn’t eat meat for a whole month (vegan witches) or the time Sam got witch-pox. But spending a week as a girl? Fuck-or-die hexes? The time Sam got turned into an otter for three days? Dean loved that shit. And this is no different. He’s acting like an over-stimulated three year-old if you ask Sam. 

If Dean weren’t being so obnoxious, Sam might have to admit that the invisibility thing is actually pretty cool. Because not only is Dean invisible, but all traces of Dean are invisible too. Like when he was jumping on the bed? The bed was completely still. And now? Dean’s sitting across from him in the diner, eating a cheeseburger, and as closely as Sam watches, he doesn’t see any bites being taken, no ketchup bottle floating mysteriously in the air. But the second he blinks, there’s bites missing from the burger, and fewer fries on the plate. It’s got to take some serious mojo to manipulate reality like that. If they hadn’t ganked the witch yesterday, Sam would have liked to ask her a few questions.

Dean, meanwhile, is not showing any signs that he might be getting tired of finding new and not-so-inventive ways to antagonize Sam with his latest hex of the week.

“My name is Sam Winchester and my favorite movie is Beaches,” Dean sings out in a high falsetto voice. Sam covers his face with his hands, then thinks better of it. He wants the patrons—who are now turning around in their seats and staring at him—to see that his lips aren’t moving. 

“Yes, I wrap myself up in my leopard-print Snuggie and a big box of tissues, and I just let it all out…”

“Dean, so help me—“ Sam growls, but his threatening voice has more people turning around to stare, so he just snaps his mouth shut and stares at his plate, wondering how long the hex will last. A powerful one like this… that could either mean it will burn out quickly or it could mean that the witch was particularly powerful, and it will last longer than normal. Who the hell knows? 

“Awww, come on Sam, you’re no fun.”

Sam will not acknowledge the smear on his character. He is _so_ fun. He’s loads of fun. Remember that time that he… or, what about when… Okay, so maybe he’s not the barrel of laughs Dean is, but he’s an adult for goodness sake. If this had happened to him, he would be handling it with _way_ more dignity.

That’s about the point he feels Dean’s thigh press up against his own. Sneaky mo-fo changed seats without making a sound. Aaaand…. now he’s squeezing Sam’s crotch, and so help him, Sam can’t help but watch, fascinated as the ghostly pressure massages him without disturbing a thread on his jeans. His fascination turns to horror though when he realizes that although Dean and his actions might be invisible, his own reactions to what Dean is doing are most definitely not.

“Oh waitress,” Dean calls out. “I have a big surprise for you….”

“That’s it. We’re out of here. “ Sam throws a twenty on the table and shoves hard at the space where he thinks Dean is, feels his hands connect with a satisfying smack, and hears a muffled thud on the diner floor. 

++++++++

“I still can’t believe you wouldn’t let me drive.” They’ve been over this, but Dean just won’t let it go. “Imagine their faces at the drive-through!”

It’s past midnight, they’re back at the motel, and Sam is exhausted. While he does admit having Dean be invisible was useful for most of the day—for one thing, it made it easier to search the bank for hex bags—his unending enthusiasm for his new ‘superpower’ (as Dean insists on calling it) is really wearing on Sam’s nerves.

“Dude. Give it a rest. Just shut up.”

Silence. Uh-oh.

“Dean?”

Silence.

“Come on, Dean. I didn’t really mean—“

“BLAAAAAAAAUUUUGHHHH!”

“AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHH! Jesus Dean! Really?” It’s the fifth time today Dean has got him like that. Enough. Enough is enough. Dean needs a distraction. Something to keep him engaged and entertained. Luckily, with Dean, there’s always an easy answer for that one.

And yet…. What exactly would that be like? What happens to things that go… inside Dean? “Hey Dean, come here. I want to see something.” Possibility one: things disappear when they’re inside, or possibility two: they do not. Only one way to find out.

“You here?” Sam asks.

“At your service.”

“Open your mouth. Suck my finger.”

You never have to ask Dean twice to do something like that. Annnd…. That answers that question. Sam can feel Dean’s mouth around his finger, feel that undulating wave suction thing he does with his tongue, but can’t see any sign of it. His finger is still completely visible, and furthermore, doesn’t appear to be getting moist or anything. Just like the cheeseburger or the bed. No visible trace of Dean. Weird.

And speaking of weird, it’s the most amazing feeling to have all that sensation on his finger without being able to see anything happening to it. 

“Whaa boez id look like?” Dean says around his finger.

“Nothing. Just my finger mid-air.”

Sam doesn’t need to see Dean to know that they both just looked at each other with the same thought unspoken in their minds. He can hear Dean scrambling to get his clothes off even as he’s fumbling with the fly on his own jeans.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Dean says from somewhere over on the bed. He always wins these races. Sam tears his tee-shirt off over the top of his head and then feels around cautiously for Dean. “Dude, right here,” Dean says, grabbing Sam’s wrist. There’s a bottle of lube on the bed that hadn’t been there last time Sam looked.

Finding the different parts of Dean is no trouble at all. Sam’s done it in the dark and with his eyes closed, upside down and half tied up. Invisible or not, Sam’s hands can map every inch of Dean’s body accurately down to the last freckle. Of course Dean wants to see, so he’s lying on his back, half propped up on his elbows, waiting for Sam to lube up.

“Finger only first,” Sam says. 

“Chicken.” Dean taunts.

“I don’t care. I’m not sticking my dick somewhere it might disappear without getting good and mentally ready. Just be patient, jerk.”

“Why would it disappear?” Dean asks as Sam drizzles the lube over his fingers. “Your finger didn’t, right?”

“I don’t know… maybe because this will be more… inside? I don’t know Dean! When it’s _your_ dick, you go ahead and get reckless but I for one, want to see—“  
“Oh yeah. That is so totally hot,” Dean says as Sam slides in his finger. “It’s like I have x-ray vision.”

It is pretty cool. Sam crooks his finger and swirls it around, and it looks like he’s just twirling it in mid-air, but he can feel Dean, tight and hot all around his finger. Dean groans. 

“Seen enough, safety boy?” he asks, and Sam can tell by the gasping quality of his voice that Dean has grabbed his own cock and is stroking it off. Which brings up a whole new set of questions, what’s going to happen when Dean comes? Again, only one way to find out. 

Sam is kneeling in between Dean’s invisibly bent knees. He takes a deep breath. “Okay, I can do this,” he says. 

Dean snorts. 

“Was that out loud?” Sam asks.

“Just put it in already!”

Okay. A little at a time. Sam feels the incredible sensation of tight pressure surround his cockhead, but sees nothing but his dick in the air. He never really thought about it before, but surely it must get… compressed… when it’s in there? Squeezed? It sure as hell feels like it’s getting squeezed. He pushes in a little further, and Dean sucks in a shivery breath. 

Sam thinks, Oh. My. God. The discord between what his eyes are telling him and what his cock is telling him is twisting his brain into a pretzel. Somehow, because he has no visual cues, it feels so, so much tighter than he’s used to. He grits his teeth and pulls back a little, then forward again, marveling at the invisible grip of Dean around him. 

He can feel Dean propping himself up, leaning forward, trying to get a better look. “Sam, you have no idea how bizarre this is,” Dean says

“I’ve got a pretty good idea, Dean.”

“But dude, that’s _inside_ me.”

Maybe it should be freaking him out, but it’s just too damn hot. He pushes forward until he feels resistance, and Dean lets out a quavering moan. Sam can hear the small slick noises of Dean jerking off and feels him rocking beneath him. If he closed his eyes, this might all seem like normal, but he really, really doesn’t want to close his eyes. He wants to keep watching, keep feeling that amazing way that Dean is hot and tight and wet around him, even though he can’t see him. 

“Sam, I’m gonna—“

There’s a hot splatter across the bridge of Sam’s nose, and a sharp scent of pennies. And so help him, Sam _closes his eyes_ right at the moment he comes, so he doesn’t get to see what happens. But really, at that moment, he could care less. He falls forward, his weight on Dean, feeling their chests rise and fall in unison. He cracks open an eye and is rewarded with the dizzying sensation of feeling like he’s laying on top of Dean, but seeing his body resting on the bed. 

“Did you see?” Dean is the first one to speak, moments later, and he sounds calm now, lazy and sated. “‘Cause I accidentally closed my eyes.”

“Me too,” Sam answers.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh.”

“Guess we’re going to have to—“

“—do it again,” Sam finishes Dean’s sentence. 

Sam feels Dean’s lips on his, warm and plush, and thinks to himself, maybe Dean’s right. Maybe getting hexed isn’t so bad after all.


End file.
